Fatal Knockout (Knockout Series Book 1)

by Bailes, Julie

  It never ends. You’d think these big time sharks would stop letting him bet. They all know he doesn’t have near as much money as he claims. I don’t want to help him, but if he has found me and Declan, that means he found Maddie. “How much?” I ask, knowing for a fact that whoever he owes will come after me, or even worse, Madisyn. “Only 120 grand.” Only? I punch the steering wheel and shout, “What?” Who did he put his money on? “Calm down, you pus. Its chump change for you,” he says nonchalantly.

  “I can’t do it. I won’t… Everything I have saved is for Bentley’s treatment. His life is priceless, unlike yours,” I spit. “You’re even dumber than I gave you credit for. Can’t you see, son? That bastard child shouldn’t have been born to begin with. God’s trying to tell you, boy. You might as well give up on saving him now.” God, forgive me for what I’m going to say. “You coldhearted son-of-a-bitch! If I see you—” The next thing I hear is Declan’s phone crash to the ground, and him yelling, “No, you filthy, no good asshole. You’re the one who should’ve never been born.” I hear my father’s miserable groans in the background, no doubt they’re a result of Declan’s fierce and heavy hands. “Take your ass back home,” Declan roars. Breathing heavily, he says, “Meet me in the bathroom near the information desk when you make it to the hospital.”

  Traffic moves ahead just enough for me to take a turn down a back road. I drive 50mph in a 30mph zone the entire way to the hospital. Instead of driving through the garage and searching for a parking spot, I sling my duffle over my shoulder and pay valet to park for me. I hurry through the lobby and stop in my tracks when I see Declan standing in the bathroom wearing a blood stained shirt and busted lip. “Jesus,” I hiss. “What happened?” Setting my bag on top of the vanity, I dig though it and find my salve. He uses a wet paper towel to clean the dried blood off of his face, and then he coats his wounds with the ointment.

  “Here, put this on.” I hand him my gym shirt. It may be wet with sweat, but it’s better than his crimson stained tee. He takes his shirt off and tosses it in the trash. “Dude, your dad has some big—no, huge—men traveling with him. He’s dug himself in many holes before, but this time,” he pauses and slips my shirt on. “I think he might’ve dug his own grave, or yours,” he grimaces. I pace the floor and ask, “Why me? I mean, I haven’t heard from him in more than four years, and all of a sudden he has people wanting to kill me? Why, Declan?”

  “Bronson Cain,” he shrugs. “Of course, that explains it,” I smirk, my voice thick with sarcasm. “Would you mind being a little less vague?” My voice is harsher than I intend for it to be, but I am sick and tired of seeing my best friend—my brother—take beatings for crap he has nothing to do with. “I’m sorry, Dec,” I apologize. “Nah, don’t be. That asshole shouldn’t gamble on your life. As for Bronson Cain, your dad bet against you, man,” he explains. “Stupid man,” Dawson tsks. “Dec, will you call Colt and have him bring on some of his best guys? I need someone with Maddie at all times.” Bemused, Dawson asks, “Why would Maddie need security?” Zipping my bag, I sling the strap back onto my shoulder and sigh, “Dawson, anyone who knows me, knows if they hurt Madisyn they kill me. They won’t just come after me, they’ll go for her, too. And there’s nothing I won’t do to protect her.” I mean it…

  We walk into Bentley’s room and everyone shouts, “Happy birthday!” Skimming the room, I spot Maddie standing by a table next to the window. Sitting on the table is a bouquet of green balloons and a Ninja Turtle cake. Laughing under my breath, because I know Maddie let Bentley plan my party, I walk to my wife and take her into my arms. “Thank you, gorgeous.” Smiling, she peeks around my shoulder, and whispers, “You see, birthday boy, there’s this amazing little man who planned this entire thing just for you… Thank him.” Looking back, I see my man sitting up in bed, a mischievous smile on his face.

  “Hey, big guy! How are you feelin’?” I ask, hiking my leg and sitting on the bed next to him. “You like your party?” he asks, excitedly. Man, I’ve missed seeing this kid's smile. Bentley’s humorous personality is bigger than his body, but the chemo prevents him from being himself. “Depends,” I shrug, pulling his leg. Cocking his head, he eyes me questionably, the same way as his doctors do him when they’re waiting on Bentley to answer a question they’ve asked. “On what?” Nodding my head to the cake, I say, “If it’s chocolate or vanilla.” Placing his small hands on my shoulders, he pulls me down so his face is next to my ear and he whispers, “Its chocolate.” Lying back, he crosses his arms and gives me a cocky grin. Good God, this boy is just like me. “Chocolate?” I arch my brow at him and he nods. “In that case, it’s the best dam—” Straightway, someone slaps my arm. “Blaze,” Maddie warns. “Sorry, sweetheart,” I wink. She rolls her eyes at me and turns to put the candles on the cake. Returning my attention back to Bentley, I rub his bald head and stand up from the bed. “Bent, it’s the best dang party I’ve ever had.”

  Approaching Maddie from behind, I circle my arms around her and kiss her temple. “I’ve missed you,” I say so only she can hear. After she sticks the last candle into the cake, she turns in my arms and flattens her hands against my chest. “What happened to Declan? Why does he have a busted and swollen lip?” she questions. “He sparred with Dawson,” I answer. While it may not be the complete truth, it isn’t necessarily a lie. Glaring at her brother, who’s over on the sofa talking with Declan, she shakes her head and looks back to me. “He must have had a bad day,” she shrugs. “Something like that. Declan got him to submit.” Her eyes go wide. “No way,” she whisper-shouts. “Way,” I grin. Bouncing up and down, she quietly squeals, “I’m so proud of him!” She should be. Declan had skills before he joined us in Nashville, but he was a street fighter, not a professional. Maddie took him under her wing and taught him everything she learned from Trace.

  We stay in Bentley’s room eating cake and watching wrestling, until the nurse comes in to administer his night meds and tells us visiting hours are over. I hug my nephew and sister bye and follow behind everyone out the door. Dawson and Memaw catch a ride home with Madisyn, and I drive Declan a block over to pick up his truck. “Are you going to tell her?” Declan asks. “I don’t really have a choice. I’ve never kept anything from Maddie. I mean, she knows about my dad and his habits. You said it yourself, Dec, my dad may have dug my grave. I can’t let something happen to me and leave Maddie clueless,” I explain. “I guess. What are you going to do about it?” Pulling into an open space behind Declan’s truck, I put my car in park and rub my hands up and down my face. “I don’t know. I don’t want to give him the money, but I won’t risk my family’s lives,” I tell him.

  “This is my fault. I thought it was him lurking around the gym a little while back, but he looks so different. Time hasn’t been kind to him, man. He’s thin and dirty. He looks real bad, and judging by the way he was sniffing and rubbing at his nose, I’d guess he’s back on drugs. I swear, Blaze, I didn’t know.” He screws his lids tight and slams his head back against the headrest. “It doesn’t matter if you knew it was him or not, he would have found me anyway. I’m not scared of him or the assholes who threaten me. They’re threats, Dec, not actions. Whoever comes for me won’t walk away alive, I guarantee it.” He steps out of my car and motions for me to roll down my window. He rests his arm atop my car and ducks his head inside. “Even if they did—” he begins. “They won’t,” I bite out. “You’re right, they won’t.” He pats the roof of my car and walks off to his truck.

  I get home and all I want to do is hold Madisyn in my arms and fall into a deep sleep. I go upstairs to find her in our bed, asleep. Guess I’m showering alone. I step into the shower and let the water beat against my back. My muscles are tense and sore from today’s workout. This birthday has been bittersweet. Madisyn has ignored me the majority of the day. I know she’s been busy organizing and advertising the drive, but she has never worked on my birthday before. And right now, I’d give anything to have her release my pressure points. />
  Turning off the water, I dry myself off and brush my teeth. Then, I keep quiet as I go to my dresser and pull out a pair of boxer briefs. I pull down the covers to get in bed and find Maddie lying naked with a pink bow tied around her stomach. "What's this?" She opens her eyes and smiles at me. “We're havin' a girl.” I laugh. “She isn’t a he after all, huh?” She giggles and shakes her head. And just like that, her happiness makes all the wrong in my world right. I lie back and she cuddles into my side. With her head on my chest, she whispers, “Happy birthday, Daddy.”

  Both of us are too excited to fall asleep. So, I decide now is a good time to tell her about what happened earlier. “I heard from my dad today.” She clears her throat and asks, “Oh yeah? What did he want?” Trailing my fingers along the side of her face, I push her hair aside and place a kiss behind her ear. “What he always wants… money, “I tell her. “Apparently, he’s been lurking around the gym for a few weeks. He’s asking for 120k. I don’t want to give him so much as a penny, but the guys who tussled with Dec are a concern,” I explain. “It wasn’t Dawson who busted Declan’s lip?”

  “No. But, I couldn’t tell you that in front of Keisha,” I answer honestly. “How many guys?” I shrug. “I don’t know.” She traces my tattoos with her finger and blows out a long breath. During the first three years of our marriage, Maddie and I paid more than 200k to get my father out of trouble. Occasionally, I’d have people threaten to kill me and I’d fly out to Vegas and fight on my father’s behalf. But I am done saving his ass. Well, it’s no longer his ass I’m saving, it’s my own. These men, they know I’m worth a lot. What they don’t know is, I spend almost half of my income on my sick nephew’s medical bills. And now, Maddie and I have a child of our own to prepare for. “You have to give it to him, baby. I don’t want anyone coming after you. I need you.” Her voice cracks at the end. I turn her face up to mine. “We can’t keep paying his debts, Madisyn. If I keep doing so, it’ll never stop.” Pausing, I splay my hand on top of her stomach. “And now that we have this little girl on the way, I have to end it.”

  She covers my hand with hers and entwines our fingers. “Okay,” she says softly. “But you have to promise me something.” I nod and she continues. “You have to tell Dawson. I don’t want you going anywhere by yourself, nowhere. You hear me?” Frustrated, not at Maddie, but with the situation my father has put me in, I run my hand back through my hair and stand up from the bed. “I promise to tell Dawson, but I don’t need anyone guarding me,” I tell her. Obviously annoyed by my response, she kicks the covers off, stands on the mattress, and jabs her index finger into the center of my chest. “You may be the unbeatable Blaze ‘The Craze’ Benson to everyone else in the world, but you aren’t to me. You are mine, Blaze Evans Benson. You are my husband, and while you believe that you’re invincible, you aren’t. You are not bulletproof.” She tears up and covers her stomach with her hands. “We can’t have you stop breathing. I can’t—”

  “You won’t. There’s a reason they call me what they do. I’m crazy and nothing, no one, will keep me from being victorious. Though I don’t feel the need to have someone with me at all times, if it will make you happy, I’ll do it.” I reach my hands up to hold either side of her head and kiss her forehead. “It will make me extremely happy,” she replies. “Done. Either Dawson, Declan, or one of the guys from security will be with me at all times, I promise.” Smiling, she hugs my neck and quietly sniffles, “Thank you, baby.”

  Sixteen

  Madisyn

  “I have some great news for you, big man,” Dr. Kessler announces. Bentley, who’s tired and weak from weeks of intensive treatment, doesn’t show the slightest amount of excitement. “Well, do you want to hear it?” Bentley stares blankly at Dr. Kessler and sighs, “I guess.” Dr. Kessler turns to us. “How about you ladies? Are you ready to hear some amazing news?” Keisha and I look to one another, she shrugs and I nod. “As long as the ‘amazing news’ isn’t followed by a downing but, then yes,” Keisha says seriously. “Unfortunately, there is a ‘but’ to follow. However, it’s a good one, mostly…”

  “Well, unlike Keisha here, I’m ready to hear any news that isn’t bad. So, give it to us,” I beam, hoping to lift everyone’s spirits. “Seems that Mr. Bentley here is back in remission,” he says cheerfully. Still, Bentley doesn’t react. Dr. Kessler pats Bentley’s leg and continues, “Remember, this doesn’t mean the cancer is cured, only that there aren’t any signs of it in his blood. Usually, we’d go ahead and begin the second phase of treatment—” I scoot up to the edge of my seat and ask, “Usually?” With and ear-to-ear grin, he nods his head and answers. “Yes, usually… But, not this time.”

  “Are you crazy?” Keisha raises her voice. Dr. Kessler chuckles, “Occasionally.” Not funny, doc, not even a little. When he notices neither of us catch his jests, he looks to me and asks, “Mr. Benson isn’t here?” Unfortunately, no. He wanted to be here, but Travis has a competition in three days and Blaze squeezed in an extra session for him. “Not today,” I frown. “Is he in a position where he can listen in on the exciting news I’m going to give y’all?” Knowing that Blaze always answers my calls, I tell him yes and put my cell on speaker. “Hey, baby,” he answers. “Hey, babe. Dr. Kessler says he has some news for us and he wants you to hear it,” I explain the reason for my call. “I’m all ears, baby.” I hold the speaker out to Dr. Kessler and he begins. “As I told your sister and wife, Bentley is back in remission. Usually we would continue with the second phase of treatment, but not this time.”

  “Oh-kay. Why not?” Blaze questions him. Again, Dr. Kessler smiles broadly. “We heard from the registry this morning and Bentley has a donor.” Without hesitation, I stand from the sofa and pull Keisha up right along with me. I don’t care that I’m getting too big to jump up and down like an insanely, happy aunt, because I am. I hug her as close to me as my belly will allow and excitedly squeal, “He has a donor!” She doesn’t say anything, she only cries. “Those better be tears of joy,” I warn her, my waterworks beginning their show. “They are,” she sniffles. “What did I tell you two about crying in front of him?” Blaze surprises us all when he walks through the door. “I was parking when you called,” he shrugs.

  He walks over to me and hooks his arm around my neck. “Do you know who the donor is?” Keisha asks. “The donor asked to remain anonymous… until the transplant. However, the donor did have a special request.” Excited, Blaze blurts out, “Whatever they want, we’ll give it to them—no questions asked.” Dr. Kessler closes his laptop and stands. Then, he looks at each of us and says, “Their only request is to meet Bentley and his family before the transplant.” Blaze hugs me a little tighter and asks, “Doc, when will he be able to get the transplant?” Dr. Kessler sits back down and sighs. “It can take a few days. The donor is staying in the area until he hears from us, his choice. We’ve already collected and separated the cells for transport, but Bentley needs conditioning therapy. We’ve already given him his last round of high-dose chemotherapy and his immune system is already weak, which is helpful.”

  “How is that helpful?” Blaze huffs. “A weakened immune system makes his body less likely to kick into gear and attack the donor’s cells,” he explains. “What happens after the transplant?” I ask curiously. Will Bentley be able to come home and live his life like other kids his age? Will he be able to keep up with other children at the park? “Due to his weak immune system and the cells coming from a donor, Bentley will need to be under isolation to lower his risk of infection. Our medical team will keep a close eye on him to make sure the cells settle into his marrow and regenerate new ones. We’ll give him medication to encourage the engrafting process and prevent the possibility of rejection. This can take anywhere from two weeks to six months. Bentley will stay here until I’m 100% positive the transplant is successful.” Blaze extends his hand out and shakes hands with Dr. Kessler. “Thank you, doc.”

  ***

  “How many people would you say we
should expect at the drive?” I toss an extra bag of chocolate chips into the grocery cart. “I don’t know, Memaw. We put fliers out around all the colleges, had the churches put it in their bulletin, and it’s in the Sunday paper. So, I’d say more than we can bake for. What do you think, Colt?” Blaze is out of town with Travis and he wouldn’t agree to let me fly with him. Yet, he wouldn’t let me stay home alone either. Being as Dawson is in Texas with one of his clients and I made Declan tag along with Blaze, I’m staying over at Memaw’s until he returns. But of course, he wouldn’t let us be by ourselves. He has his toughest bodyguard looking after me. The only time I’m alone is when I’m showering or taking a pee, and even then he’s standing outside the door until I’m finished.

  I’m not sure if it’s Blaze’s orders or not, but Colt never talks to me unless I ask him a question. “You like homemade cookies, Colt?” Memaw asks him. “Yes, ma’am, I do.” She points to a 25lb bag of flour and tells him, “If you’ll place that heavy bag of flour in this buggy for me, you can be my taste tester.” Grinning, he squats down and tosses the 25lb bag over his shoulder. “I can carry it for you, ma’am. You got enough in that cart already.” Patting his arm, she looks to me and smiles, “I might just steal him from Blaze.”

  We check out and go home to get our bakin’ on. Albeit they say pregnant women shouldn’t eat raw cookie dough, I can’t resist. I stuff a spoonful of dough into my mouth each time Memaw turns her back to me. We’ve baked at least a dozen batches of cookies for tomorrow’s drive. “Good Lord, where’d all these spoons come from?” She turns away from the sink and faces me. With my mouth full of chocolate chips, I shrug and say, “What? I don’t double dip.” She takes the bag of candy away from me and laughs. “You’re just like your daddy. That boy never could wait for them to finish baking.” I smile and remember the Friday nights when Daddy was home. We’d pop in a pizza, order a movie, and eat cookie dough right out of the container. Dawson and Momma would scrunch their noses and complain about our “disgusting” addiction.